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Every lawyer (or in my case, ex-lawyer) comes to the day when they realize that the profession has warped their sense of right and wrong.

For some, it arrives when don’t even feel even a smidgen of guilt as they help themselves to their client’s trust account as if it is their own personal piggy bank. For others, it comes when they’re scribbling out their time sheets, and inflating their billables by ten or, more likely, ninety percent.

For me, it came yesterday, when I found myself blithely telling our teenage babysitter how, if she’s ever pulled over by the cops under suspicion of drunk driving, to circumvent the field sobriety tests. This is the only truly valuable piece of information I have retained from law school, and I’m always eager to pass it on.

But then it suddenly occurred to me – maybe it was the way our babysitter’s eyes had widened with shock, or maybe it was that I’d suddenly become aware of the warm heft of my small child snuggled up in my arms – that this wasn’t, perhaps, the most appropriate conversation I’ve ever launched into.

“Er . . . sorry about that. I guess I veered off of the whole responsible adult line there for a minute,” I said apologetically. “What I meant to say was: never drink! You, too, Sam,” I added sternly. “Alcohol is bad!”

Yeah, I’m pretty much going straight to hell, aren’t I?

The whole conversation came about because I happened to be pulled over by a police officer yesterday. Now, I’m a fairly responsible member of society. I certainly don’t participate in criminal activity. But for some reason, every time I’m pulled over, I suddenly feel shifty and guilty.

This time, as it turned out, I was guilty. Not of one transgression, but three. Somehow – and I have to say, I do blame George for this (this may sound sexist, but I consider cars to fall under his umbrella of responsibility, along with mowing the grass, pest control and taking out the garbage) – I was driving around with (1) expired tags, (2) expired registration, and (3) an expired insurance card.

“I have grounds to arrest you,” the cop explained nicely. “I’m not going to, but I could.”

“Gah!” I said, or something similarly articulate.

The police officer very kindly let me off with a warning. I have a feeling this probably had more to do with the contents of my minivan – i.e. one tired and cranky preschooler, a bag full of wet bathing suits and towels that were giving off the strong stench of chlorine, and one hysterical pug who has issues with men wearing uniforms, and so was doing her best to throw herself out the window at the police officer while screeching uncontrollably – than his charitable nature. I’m guessing he was not keen on taking charge of this motley crew.

But for whatever reason, he let me off, for which I am very grateful. And this morning, I’m off to register my car, and rejoin the ranks of responsible society.

Posted 01 August 2007 at 07:57 AM